


Pear Wood Bones

by TheCicada



Category: CLAMP - Works, Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Artistic Liberties, Doctor AU, F/M, M/M, cicada tries to do Medical Accuracy, doctor and patient scenario cw, everything is totally consensual but still, gothy industrial au, lead poisoning cw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6818485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCicada/pseuds/TheCicada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurogane is a miner with a bad case of lead poisoning and an even worse case of distrust. Accompanied by his sister Sakura, he travels to the manor of the reclusive Dr Fluorite in hopes of finding a cure. But Kurogane's unease about receiving treatment proves to be sensible. The manor holds secrets that Dr Fluorite would rather not share, and as their relationship deepens Kurogane becomes determined to reveal them - and all of Fai's power and fragility. The doctor is as fallible as his patient, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Heir of Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> I am so, so undecided about this one. I'm absolutely going to finish it and have a load of unpublished chapters drafted and ready to go, but I have NO IDEA how this will be received. I'm aiming for around 40,000-50,000 words. So uh. Let's see how that holds up.
> 
> It's slightly bizarre and I am so sorry about the doctor/patient thing. :/ I don't know where that one came from. All I can promise is that it's probably not as creepy as it sounds, in this case. (God I hope it's not, that's really not what I was going for.)
> 
> A final note for later chapters: pay attention to the pacing. Not because I'm doing anything fancy with it, but because I'm terrible at pacing. Please let me know how it goes and what I should be fixing.

_Dear Dr Fluorite,_

_I know you appreciate brevity, so I will forego formalities and let you know how happy I am. It is with the deepest gratitude that I respond to your letter accepting my request. My utmost hopes were satisfied upon opening your correspondence and reading that you are willing to take on a patient. Having been content with recruiting a suitable specialist for the treatment of my friend’s health, you can imagine my joy at reading the following offer. To provide medical services of your calibre for no payment is a serious commitment. Your generosity has left a warm impression on my heart, and I thank you deeply._

_I must point out, however, that my offer to fulfil the payment for Mr Kurogane’s treatment still stands. His lack of monetary resources need not be a consideration in the decision to treat him for free. As you well know, his surrogate sister is a friend of mine, and I would do anything within my power to ensure the stability and happiness of their family. Should thought of their financial standing have been a factor in your decision, I humbly request that you reconsider my offer._

_I await your reply and will pass on the details of your estate to Mr Kurogane. It is my understanding that his sister would like to accompany him on his trip, if your situation allows. She has informed me that she is willing to assist around the property in any capacity you may see fit while she is there. I will also add that I would be glad to cover any expenses which may arise due to the presence of an extra person at your estate._

_Thank you again for your kind help. I look forward to hearing from you and leave you, and your future patient, with my best wishes._

_Tomoyo Daidoji_

* * *

 

The train rattled to a halt around 3 o’ clock, when the autumn sun was beginning to set and the leaves left a din in their wake. The conductor stepped onto the platform to oversee the disembarkation of the train’s passengers. One by one, people began to file out of the doors. A late afternoon breeze stirred their collars as they trudged away, hugging overcoats closer about them. The hall of the train seemed to widen as it unloaded its burden and the last passengers left.

The backmost car was one of the last to empty. Inside, a burly young man hauled two satchels out of the overhead racks, passing one down to the quaintly dressed girl beside him. He paused a moment with his bag in his arms, looking out at the families waiting for loved ones to return from the city. With a final heave, Kurogane secured his bag over his shoulder and waited for Sakura to do the same. Together, they left the train.

Despite the overcast sky and the waning daylight, the platform outside was brighter than their compartment. Kurogane had to squint to see the platform, and ended up following Sakura to a nook in the wall where they wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. Sakura took long strides, stretching her limbs as she walked, and it was a few moments before Kurogane realised she was smiling at him. He returned a companionable grunt and waited for his balance to steady.

“Where are we catching the coach from?” Sakura wondered aloud, eyes fixed on her brother. Kurogane surveyed the area – he had never been to this town before and had barely seen it on a map before arriving. The mountains rose around them like watching, emerald-clad titans and a dense forest was visible beyond the houses. The sun was already dipping behind the trees so that night felt likely to arrive before it was due.

“Fountain at the station entrance, Fluorite said so,” Kurogane said at last, pointing to the exit. He was eager to find somewhere warmer before dark. They found the fountain after a brief search, though it hadn’t been grand enough to catch their attention straight away. It was a dry grey artefact, stone birds knocked off their perches and lichen clinging to the bowl. Their coach was little better off, with two underfed-looking horses at the head and a ratty curtain tied shut over the window.

The siblings confirmed their identities to the driver and stepped inside. They barely fit in the tight space, and just wrestled the bags into their laps when the coach rattled to life. Kurogane sighed and began fiddling with the curtain. He already wished he could breathe the fresh air on the other side of the glass.

“All those hours on the train and we’re sitting down again!” Sakura said, as though reading his thoughts. “I hope Dr Fluorite has a garden.”

“He’ll have a garden,” Kurogane said. “He’s a doctor. He’s rich.”

Sakura rolled her eyes, which made him feel slightly better. “Maybe not all rich people like gardens,” she said. “How do we know Dr Fluorite does?”

Kurogane gave a weak shrug and peered out the window instead of answering. Dilapidated halls and cottages swept by as they picked up speed, bare-fingered trees brushing the tops of buildings and reaching out to each other over broken fences. People walking home stopped to watch them pass from time to time, craning their necks to see where the carriage was going. The siblings were headed towards the empty end of town, where the spaces between the cottages grew from lanes into yards and finally into fields. Kurogane realised that they were bound for the forest.

He closed the curtain and shut his eyes, laying his head back to rest. He was careful to face away from Sakura – he’d rather not look half-dead if she could gawk at him for it. The train ride that day had been hell. The darkness, blotted with unforgiving sunlight from a co-passenger’s window, had given him a headache. He was still shaky from finally standing up and suppressed a growl in favour of lolling into a semi-conscious daze. He would be glad to be free of this rickety carriage, too.

Kurogane drew awake some time later to find that the carriage had stopped. He pulled back the curtain and found that dusk was beginning to seep into the forest around them. They were in a clearing in front of a drive, and Kurogane could hear a metal gate clanging open somewhere before them.

“This is us,” Sakura said, shaking him gently by the arm.

“Don’t know who else it would be,” Kurogane said and grasped his bag. The door opened abruptly as the driver urged him out, stuffing something into a coat pocket which he had taken from a stranger near the coach. Kurogane frowned at the sight. For a second, he imagined handing over the payment himself, heavy coins tumbling out of his palm like grapes, and looked away. Wordlessly, the driver rallied his horses and leapt back into his seat.

“Wait,” said a voice, and Kurogane saw the person who had just delivered payment to the driver. He was a lean boy around Sakura’s age, with wide brown eyes and a serious set to his mouth. The driver waited. “Will it be safe on the road back? It’s getting dark soon, if you need more oil for your lamp-”

“Save it, kid.” The driver gave a half-hearted wave and turned the carriage back onto the road. In a matter of moments, it had disappeared among the trees.

Kurogane steadied himself and looked around. He was standing in front of a tall gate of wrought-iron, which encircled the hallowed figure of a manor. He hadn’t really known what to expect, but it was not this. In his mind there were more straight edges, more of the colour white. Here, the remains of daylight lingered timidly in the boughs of evergreen branches, and the yard encircling the manor was filled with overgrown ornaments and the whispers of insects. It was indeed a garden, but one so wild that he hesitated to call it that.

The boy (he was hardly any older, now that Kurogane looked him over) cleared his throat politely. He gave a welcoming smile and gestured to the gate, his back so straight it looked ready to snap. “Welcome to the Fluorite manor,” he said. “I’m Syaoran, Dr Fluorite’s assistant. And, um, this is the manor.”

“How do you do,” said Sakura, holding out her hand. Syaoran shook it, looking more pleased than surprised at her presence. “I think Tom- Miss Daidoji told you I was coming? I’m Kurogane’s sister.”

“Oh, yes!” Syaoran nodded enthusiastically. “She told us all about you.” His voice faltered slightly as his eyes flickered to Kurogane. “And that would make you Mr Kurogane,” he said, unsure. Kurogane didn’t have much confidence in this one.

“That would be me,” he confirmed. Syaoran tried to shake his hand, but drew it away after a moment of idling when Kurogane reacted a beat too late.

A regretful understanding passed between them before Syaoran perked up again. “Mr Fluorite’s out at the moment, but I can show you to your rooms and tour you through the manor before he returns. Oh,” he added, seemingly embarrassed, “Shall I take your bags? I can carry them, if you need to-”

“This is fine,” Kurogane said, before Sakura could reply. He ignored her gaze and swung his bag over his shoulder. Syaoran led them down the garden path, shutting the gate behind them and gesturing them through the overgrowth.

“We haven’t had a lot of time to devote to the garden, I’m afraid,” he said as he leaned into the front door, which swung open in a slow arc. Kurogane’s first instinct was to look up, to take in the looming vault of a ceiling he knew must be there. But it wasn’t. Lofty silks had instead been fixed to the centre of the ceiling to create a sort of tent, and the room below it was not the echoing void he had pictured but a study full of mahogany desks and soft rugs. A fireplace crackled in the back wall and books lay open on the lounges.

“This is the entrance hall. It’s small, so we actually use it a lot – I made those cushion covers myself, I took a class when I went home to visit my parents… and this over here is the kitchen.” The boy crossed to a door in the side of the entrance hall, peering in. “It’s actually not the main kitchen, but we cook and clean in here, and the other one we just keep as a kind of all-purpose workspace. That room back there is the dining room, we sometimes use it for guests, but we usually just eat wherever we feel like – ah, but you can eat in the dining room, if you prefer, it’s quite nice… Oh, this room down the hall-” (Sakura gasped) “-is the library. I sleep in here sometimes…”

Kurogane and Sakura were led from room to room for the next ten minutes. The majority of these were empty but for a few rugs and boxes, or standing instruments the purposes of which Kurogane could rarely identify. There was a telescope in one room, surrounded by a clutter of pens and spreads of paper on the floor. There were no less than four halls that could have been put to any purpose Kurogane could imagine, but which seemed mostly unused. There were also six different bathrooms, the largest of which was a servants’ washroom with three adjoined bathtubs, which struck Kurogane as impressive for a room which would feasibly be used by nobody.

The manor put him off. He became more uncomfortable with every echoing space until he could no longer hide the jittery feeling in his limbs. He crossed his arms, which made him feel more secure, and stopped in the middle of a connecting hallway between a study and a storage room to attract Syaoran’s attention. “Where is everyone?” he said.

Syaoran seemed prepared for the question. He turned to his guests with a half-shrug and a smile. “It’s just me and Fai – Dr Fluorite, that is. He’s never been interested in hiring servants. He’s a little eccentric like that. He’s my teacher, really, and I get accredited as a training scientist through him, but apart from me, there’s no-one.” He must have seen the incredulous look on Kurogane’s face, because he added, “He’s always off sharing his research, though. He just likes his space.”

Kurogane barely stopped himself rolling his eyes. He felt instantly bad about it, but defiance quickly defeated guilt. This was ridiculous. He didn’t like being in the position to owe anything to anyone in the first place, and much less so when he was going to have to endure the sight of wasted opulence every day for who knew how long.

It was shortly after this interruption that Syaoran led the pair upstairs to their rooms. Kurogane had the distinct impression he was attempting to make up, and nodded to the boy as he opened the door to Kurogane’s room. “You can use anything you find in the manor, except for the stuff in the main kitchen, and feel free to go anywhere in the house expect for in there unless Fai’s with you. If you need anything,” he said, bravely, “I’ll be downstairs. Fai should be back soon, so I’m sure you can have any questions answered then.”

“Where is he, exactly?”

“He’s in the neighbouring town,” Syaoran said. “You would have passed through just before you got here. He’s ordering some food and supplies, he said he’d be back before dark…”

Kurogane nodded briskly. “Thanks,” he said, and Syaoran made to leave with a final hopeful smile. Kurogane retreated into his room until the boy had gone, and then sought out Sakura in the next room over. She’d left the door open and turned immediately as though she’d been waiting for him.

“ _Did you see that library?_ ” she hissed.

“I saw it,” he said, feeling some of the tightness in his stomach lift. “Did you see that garden?”

Sakura gave a dramatic sigh. “It’s not what I was hoping for, but it has a certain desolate beauty to it.”

Kurogane snorted and Sakura giggled. Then, slowly, the smile slipped from her face. “I know you’re not too happy about all this,” she said, “But were in a good place, right? We could have wound up with someone who turned their nose up at us and so far we seem to be in good hands…” She looked up at Kurogane from where she sat on the edge of the bed, which was probably bigger than any she’d ever slept in. “I know how you’re feeling – well, I don’t know how you’re _feeling_ , and if you need to rest, you should, but just remember you’re not here alone.”

Kurogane didn’t meet her eyes. “I know,” he muttered. “Thanks.” They were silent for a moment before Kurogane excused himself. “I’m going to take a walk outside. I’ll see you later.”

Sakura uttered a “see you” and Kurogane made his way to the staircase. He felt rejuvenated after his doze in the carriage, and didn’t have to lean heavily on the banister as he descended, but he kept an eye out for the passing figure of Syaoran anyway. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone, and didn’t feel like reprimanding himself for his rudeness, either. He just needed to be outside.

The halls wheezed like the cavities of a dying beast. Kurogane had the distinct impression as he walked inside them that he was privy to a relic few others would see. Chandeliers hung bedraggled from the ceilings, tendrils of crystal dripping stained from their cores. The friezes around them were chipped and shrivelled like old bone, and the air stagnant like a breath held too long.

He found a back way into the garden after a little exploring near the room with the telescope. From there he only had to edge down a narrow hallway and open the back door, and was rewarded with the evening air washing over him as he stepped outside.

The tips of firs on the garden’s rim arrowed skywards, and the cool, creeping darkness in their midst made him shiver. He pulled his coat around himself enough that the cold couldn’t hurt him, and walked onto the satisfying crunch of gravel. The magenta sky was quickly deepening into the pelagic blue of night, and Kurogane could hear owls calling in the forest. This, he thought, inhaling as deeply as he could, was far preferable to being cooped up inside.

He began to wander the edge of the house, gaze meandering over the empty rooms behind the manor windows. This place was bizarre. The inside of the manor looked like the lair of an indecisive ghost, which favoured studies full of books and teacups as much as empty armoires that stood alone in the middle of bare rooms. He walked towards the forest several paces and turned back to the manor, hoping to get a clearer view of it and perhaps of his whole situation. He was taking in its two tall storeys when something caught his eye.

He hadn’t noticed it up close, but from back here, he could see discolouration on the foundations of the building. There was a black smear running across half of the brickwork. It flicked and streamed as though fashioned by a brush. He squinted, trying to make out its shapes, imagining what caused it, when he heard something move behind him.

“Would I be correct in assuming you’re Kurogane?”

He almost jumped. Bristling with embarrassment, he turned around with every intention of looking as formidable as he could. Instead, he fell short of speaking. In the arch of trees stood a tall man in a thin overcoat, golden hair bound in a low ponytail, a static tension about him. He held a bag of something under one arm and was eyeing Kurogane quizzically. Kurogane didn’t like those eyes, narrow and challenging, and he didn’t like the way the man smiled.

“I am,” Kurogane said. “So you’re Fai.”

The doctor raised his brows. He approached Kurogane with a wry smile and gave a little bow before falling into step beside him. “Most people call me by my surname.”

“You can take that up with Syaoran, then. He kept calling you that.”

Fai laughed in a way that was hard to pin down as either genuine or affronted. He seemed unfazed by the appearance of a ragged stranger in his garden, as though he encountered the situation on a regular basis. Kurogane could feel the buzzing urgency from earlier rear up inside him again, willing him to storm back towards the forest and leave the doctor behind.

“When did you arrive?” Fai asked.

“Nearly an hour ago.”

“Excuse my lateness. I had to order some supplies and couldn’t get to town until this afternoon.” Fai held the door open. He waited serenely for Kurogane to stomp through before following him inside, door gliding shut behind them.

“Sounds like it wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t live in the middle of nowhere,” Kurogane said. He felt the rush of satisfaction that told him he was being needlessly rude. “When did you move in? This place looks like it’s been neglected for years.”

Fai didn’t look back at him. Kurogane could imagine the placid look on his face by the sound of his voice. “We can’t choose what we inherit.”

“You’ve never considered selling it and moving somewhere else?”

Fai chuckled and emerged into the main hallway. Kurogane didn’t like following him through the house. He didn’t like the press of the walls or how it was so hard to catch a clear view of the doctor’s face. Nor did he feel the reassurance that setting eyes on a doctor is supposed to instil. Fai didn’t feel like a doctor at all. He had a few years on Kurogane, but he was definitely no more than middle aged, and the way he glided about the hall and tugged at his long blonde hair gave him the impression of being younger still. His grey overcoat was tailored well, hugging the slim figure gracefully, but it had been thoroughly used.

In his attempts to crane forward, Kurogane spotted Syaoran moving between the little kitchen and an adjoining room up ahead, and stopped. The boy was wearing what appeared to be a lab coat over his clothes. He was talking to Sakura, who emerged from somewhere donning an identical coat and carrying a pile of mixing bowls. Kurogane’s pulse quickened. What on earth was happening?

“Forgive me for assuming, but it looked like you were enjoying yourself outside,” Fai said. He turned to Kurogane at last, and Kurogane had been right – he still wore that peaceful smile on his face. “Do you have a problem with where we’re situated? We could relocate our tests to a hospital in the town, if you’d like.”

Kurogane felt the world slow down and his ears began to burn. So, he thought, his choice was between staying here and being hospitalised. He didn’t know which repulsed him more. He felt a rush of adrenalin and suddenly couldn’t stand the sight of the doctor’s smiling mouth.

“Fai! Welcome back.”

“Syaoran!”

The boy was waving them into the entrance chamber, eyes lighting up when they landed on Fai. “We’ve been cooking dinner. I hope it’s okay. We didn’t have a lot so I tried to keep it simple, but I think it will still taste good.”

“Excellent! What did you make?”

“A light soup to start with, but right now we’re roasting the pheasant from this morning with a stuffing of herbs from the garden, and I have some plum sauce to go with it. Oh, and there are potatoes and some pumpkin, too.”

“You were right!” cried a second voice. Kurogane started as Sakura burst from the kitchen with yellow stains on her hands, apparently having paused her work to make an entrance. There was a feather stuck to her shoe. “They _do_ have a garden! A real one, behind the kitchen, with herbs in it. Syaoran makes tea with them.”

Syaoran looked more bashful than a boy who had just planned a two-course meal wearing a high-grade lab coat had any right to be.

Sakura took notice of Fai at that moment and became rigid, ready to say something, but Fai gently interrupted. “You must be Sakura?”

“Yes.”

“Nice to meet you. You can call me Fai.” He looked her over with a laugh and added, “I’d shake your hand, but perhaps that can wait until later.” He gave a theatrical bow instead, which Sakura returned with all the seriousness her cooking partner had earlier displayed. She had a smile on her face that suggested the whole world had laid itself at her feet. Kurogane realised that his hands were still balled into fists, and crossed his arms instead.

“Right. Is there anything I can help with?” Fai asked. “I bought some extra flour and wine…”

“No, it’s okay,” Syaoran said, and took the bag from Fai’s arms for good measure. “We have it under control. You can rest until it’s ready.”

Although the boy’s generosity was honest, Kurogane had the impression that it wasn’t what Fai wanted to hear. “Okay. Thank you – you too, miss,” Fai said, and beckoned Kurogane further into the entrance hall.

Fai lit several gas lamps as they walked, so that warm light filled the room. Kurogane followed in silence until they reached a set of couches near the fireplace, and Fai sank into one of them gratefully. Kurogane chose the one opposite, tossing aside one of the hand-stitched cushions before nestling into the corner.

There was a moment of silence. Kurogane avoided Fai’s gaze and Fai twirled the tassel on a throw rug, smiling at nothing in particular.

“I hope the journey from the city wasn’t too long?” Fai said at last.

“About eight hours,” Kurogane replied.

“Well,” Fai said, “You won’t have to make it again for a matter of months, unless you decide to visit home. I’m committed to working on a cure for your illness for as long as I might need to.”

“You’re already close, aren’t you?” Kurogane said. “Miss Daidoji told me. You just need a patient willing to take some tests, and then you’ll have a cure. Right?”

Fai tilted his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “I’ve developed a theory, but I still haven’t tried it out. I think Miss Daidoji is under the impression that it is more advanced than it really is.” He looked meaningfully at Kurogane, smile tautening. “Lead poisoning is a tricky thing, even among other kinds of heavy metal poisoning. The treatment may be as dangerous as the sickness.”

Kurogane flinched at the final word. Fai apparently noticed, because his eyes flickered to Kurogane’s tightly crossed arms, but he didn’t say anything.

“Miss Daidoji says you were the crown jewel of her mother’s university,” Kurogane said.

“They were good to me,” Fai conceded. “I have a lot to thank them for.”

“You’re peerless. So I hear.”

Fai laughed, smile coming undone at the edges. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“But you can treat it?” Kurogane pressed. He looked the doctor in the eye as though challenging him to give the wrong answer. He hadn’t come all this way at someone else’s expense just to be coddled and prodded until next spring. “I have a job to get back to,” he added, pointedly. “I don’t know the Daidojis all that well – they’re doctors, I’m a miner.” He stopped. Hoped Fai couldn’t see him grinding his teeth. “Was.”

Fai made an understanding noise in his throat. It irked. “Miss Daidoji told me she’s offered you a risk-free job upon your return, if you help me develop my research.”

“I didn’t ask for it. She’s adores Sakura, so she promised her I’d get it.”

“But you’ve accepted?”

Kurogane grunted ‘yes’.

“Good.” Fai sank further into the couch, head in hand. “I wouldn’t have been comfortable knowing I was sending a patient straight back into danger as soon as I’d worked a solution out of him.”

“I’m not the only one in danger,” Kurogane said. “Half my colleagues are already screwed. Especially the older ones.” Fai didn’t say anything, which only irritated him further. “I’ve seen them die,” he said. He was pleased to see that the doctor’s smile was gone.

But Fai looked away and before long it had returned, as opaque as before. “Then you understand. This isn’t just about treating _you_.”

That was true. Kurogane shrugged and stared at a stack of notated books. Fai didn’t seem particularly eager to pursue small talk after that, which Kurogane was perfectly fine with. They let the silence deepen around them, broken only by the muffled voices of Syaoran and Sakura in the kitchen, until Sakura presented herself in the doorway and cleared her throat.

“Dinner is ready!” she announced. She had taken off the lab coat and was smiling triumphantly. “Syaoran said we might have it in the proper dining room tonight, if that’s okay with you, Doctor?”

“Perfectly so,” he said, standing up, and Kurogane was relieved to do the same. “And Fai is fine, really.”

Sakura fell into step beside Kurogane as they walked into the dining room. “How does the doctor sound?” she asked him.

“Shady,” Kurogane grumbled. “I don’t like him.”

“Oh.”

Syaoran was zipping in and out through another door to the kitchen when they arrived. He and Sakura had set the table. Candles glinted in the serving platter in the centre of the table, and the lamps on the walls set the dining room aglow. When everything was prepared, Syaoran seated them and served them the best dinner Kurogane could remember eating.

Fai complimented Sakura and Syaoran on their cooking, and the two teenagers took control of the conversation from there. Kurogane had the impression that Fai was as grateful for this as he was. Despite the banquet laid before them, the doctor ate little, citing a lack of appetite when Syaoran asked what the matter was. Kurogane ate as much as he could, because he knew he needed it and because he felt compelled to counter the doctor’s frigid attempts at feasting – but to his dismay, he found that his appetite soon ran dry, too.

“The sickness,” he muttered to Sakura when she leaned over to ask him why he didn’t go on. “I haven’t eaten this much in ages.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Eat as much as you can though, okay?”

“Don’t be sorry,” he scoffed. “I did. It was good.”

Sakura eventually turned her attention to the doctor. “So, Fai… is there anything I might be able to help with around the estate while we’re here?”

Fai smiled more warmly than Kurogane had seen him do yet and turned to Syaoran. “Do you have any projects Miss Sakura could help with?”

Syaoran shot up straight at the suggestion. Kurogane could see him counting with his fingers, hands half hidden beneath the tablecloth. “You mean research?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t do that!”

“Anything,” Fai said, grinning. “It doesn’t have to be research. Any dinner parties planned? Orders of tea?”

Syaoran blushed. “Some orders of tea… But I don’t mind you helping out on minor things in the lab, really,” he said to Sakura. He caught Kurogane’s narrowed eyes in the process and looked away. “You’re a precise cook, and it’s basically the same thing…”

Sakura looked slightly panicked. “Will that really be alright?” she asked Fai. “Is that enough to…”

“To repay us?” Fai finished. “You don’t need to. I just hope you don’t get bored. This place is awfully large.”

“It is,” Kurogane said. Fai cocked an eyebrow.

Sakura looked squarely at Fai, frowning with the gravity of whatever was running through her mind. “Thank you,” she said. If she had been standing, Kurogane thought she might have bowed again. “All this is so kind of you. Especially with the treatment being free.”

Fai sustained a half-smile and stared at the remains of the roast pheasant. All their eyes, Syaoran’s included, were fixed on him. He pushed a lump of congealed plum sauce around his plate in a way that struck Kurogane as most un-doctorly. “Please don’t mention it. This treatment has to be developed, whether I succeed or someone else does.” With that, he stood up and pushed his chair in, motioning to his plate. “Syaoran, would you mind cleaning up tonight? I have to finish putting things in order for tomorrow, and then I plan to get some sleep before Mr Kurogane’s treatment starts.”

“Of course,” Syaoran said.

“Mr Kurogane,” the doctor trilled, turning on him. “I think we should start as early as possible so you can rest in the afternoon. Can you be at the main kitchen at seven tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll be there,” Kurogane said. “What are we doing?”

“We’ll just run through the treatment and make sure you’re comfortable with everything, then I’ll take some notes on your health. I’ll explain properly tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Sakura and Syaoran returned dutifully, and the doctor disappeared into the hallway. Kurogane grimaced. He didn’t count on the doctor answering any of his questions tomorrow, either. He trusted him about as far as he could drag him through a collapsing mineshaft – and considering Kurogane could hardly carry himself at the moment, that was saying something.

Dinner concluded quickly after that, with Syaoran standing to clear the table and Sakura eagerly following. Kurogane tried to ignore them scrambling around him like ferrets as he picked up his own plate. But Syaoran insisted on letting him take care of it, so Kurogane left it to the two of them with a huff. Sakura’s apologetic look did little to counter his restlessness.

“Are you staying up?” he asked her afterwards, when it looked as though she wouldn’t follow him upstairs.

Sakura gave him a sheepish look. “I asked Syaoran if I could use the library tonight.”

“Yeah. Go have fun,” Kurogane said. He shrugged off the look of surprise that crossed Sakura’s face. “Do whatever you can. You’re a smart kid.”

Sakura beamed. They bade each other good night and she began to leave when Kurogane added, “Keep safe and call me if you need me.”

“I will.”

He headed upstairs slowly, stopping at the halfway landing on the premise of looking around. But there was nobody to see him, so he rested a moment longer than usual before finishing the climb. The moment of solace made him burn as soon as it was over. Rest was becoming an addiction that left him hung-over and angry. He was ill, not dying. And yet this echoing enclosure made him feel more vulnerable than he could remember ever feeling before, in addition to the usual swooning and shaking. He felt the need to tiptoe over these floorboards lest someone be listening underneath.

He didn’t turn on the lamps in his room. He liked the thickness of the dark around him, and welcomed the breeze that blew in through his open window, until he had to close it because of the cold. The shivers stayed with him a little longer than they should have, but he brushed them off and changed without need of light or warmth, and got into bed.

He didn’t sleep for a long time. He stared at the shades of darkness blooming before his eyes, listened to the groan of the manor and the creak of the trees. It was only when he was on the cusp of sleep that he drew awake again to listen to another sound. Somewhere far below him, a piano was playing.

Yes, he’d seen it earlier that day. It was in one of the more well-furnished rooms at the back of the house. The room had a fireplace, and a quilted nook with stained glass windows above it, big enough for two. He could picture it now, the fire murmuring and popping, the air warm, and the spectral figure of Fai Fluorite bent over an aching, quiet song…


	2. Extraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fai takes a sample of Kurogane's blood for testing and Sakura spends the night awake in Syaoran's library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to have this out much, much sooner, but while writing a later chapter realised that I'd made a ~medical mistake~ that would have caused a continuity problem unless I edited this chapter. So I held it back for a while as I rewrote some of the timeline and fixed the problem. *sweats*  
> Sorry for any medical inaccuracies that churn up as a result! I think I got them all...  
> Warnings for injections and blood. Not much but I thought I'd mention it anyway.  
> September edit: amended again because I completely forgot that Kurogane is lactose intolerant.

A chill clung to the air when Kurogane awoke the next morning. Shucking aside quilts and throwing on the same clothes as he wore yesterday, he rose with impatience. He crept through the manor and went into the garden before the sun had fully risen. He had looked forward to walking its circumference in the grey glow of predawn, and now sucked in a long, icy breath as he eased the door shut behind him. Mist rose from the grass as he passed bare shrubs and a pear tree he had not noticed yesterday. He welcomed the cold into his lungs, stopping to breathe it in when he didn’t want to walk anymore, and was just thinking about turning back when Fai appeared.

He seemed unaware of Kurogane, or so he tried to impress upon whoever might be watching. Fai was leaning on the balcony railing, facing the forest. His hair was strictly bound in a ponytail, his clothing even lighter and neater than it had been yesterday.

“Hey,” Kurogane called, when it seemed that Fai would not speak.

The doctor met his eyes at last and gave an unassuming smile. He was not surprised to see Kurogane. “Good morning,” he said. “You’re early.”

“I’m not where we said we’d meet, yet,” Kurogane said. He crossed his arms and climbed the balcony stairs to stand opposite the doctor. “Are we going, then?”

“There’s no rush.” The doctor leaned forward on the rail and peered harder into the garden, as though trying catch a glimpse of something on its far edge. Kurogane actually turned to look, and found nothing. “I saw you out here as I was passing. You looked agitated.”

Kurogane frowned. “Why agitated?”

Fai shrugged. “You use your whole face when you frown. It must take effort.”

“What has that got to do with anything?” Kurogane said, frowning even harder. Then he wished he hadn’t, because Fai was smiling at him pointedly. The doctor had laugh lines around his eyes that scrunched when he smiled. It made him look like he was always scrutinising something.

“It’s freezing. I wanted to take a walk and warm up,” he said. “Just looking at you makes me cold. Don’t you have a proper coat?”

The laugh sounded accidental when it slipped from Fai’s mouth. “Come on, then,” he said, straightening. “We wouldn’t want you dying of something as preventable as hypothermia.” He beckoned Kurogane inside and they set off for the main kitchen.

Kurogane wasn’t sure how to counter Fai’s morbid humour and grumbled under his breath. He was still trying to make his rebuke when they reached the kitchen and the doctor ushered him inside with a wave of his hand.

“Right. Sit there and we’ll go over some things.”

Kurogane followed the doctor’s gaze to a plush armchair in the middle of the room. It was placed next to a steel workbench and a tall metal rack that he too easily imagined with bags of mysterious fluids hooked on, though it was as stark as the trees in the garden for now. He shrugged off his coat at Fai’s behest and sat down as the doctor vaulted onto the workbench.

“Is that sanitary?”

“It gets cleaned before every use,” Fai said. “The bench.”

Kurogane ground his teeth and went back to eyeing the metal rack.

“So what am I sitting down for?”

“To show you how we’ll be doing things while you’re here.” Fai pushed the rack and it swayed just enough to demonstrate how spindly and fallible it was. Kurogane caught Fai looking at him, and the doctor laughed again.

“You look nervous.”

Kurogane growled. “What is that?”

“An intravenous stand, for our purposes. A hat stand by birth,” Fai said. “I’ll take a blood sample from you today to see how bad the poisoning is. I need to record your improvements, and I won’t feel comfortable starting the treatment without it anyway.”

“Why not?”

“The treatment will probably have some negative side effects. But the alternative is not testing the treatment and maybe letting the effects on your body worsen until they’re irreversible.” Kurogane huffed. He didn’t like either option.

“So might I ask,” Fai continued, “Whether you’re still experiencing the symptoms Miss Daidoji’s doctor outlined in her note?”

Kurogane cast his mind back to over a month ago. He visited the grand Daidoji household on Tomoyo’s invitation two weeks before being shuttled off to Fai. Sakura had mentioned to her economically endowed friend that her brother – not the one with the family business training, the adopted one – had been out of sorts recently. Nothing much, just shortness of breath and an absence of his usual athletic strength...

By the time Kurogane spoke to the Daidojis’ doctor, he couldn’t feel the fingers on his left hand.

Kurogane curled them to test their reactions. Their movement was stunted, furling and unfurling slow and shaky. He could feel them now, but a tingling sensation always hovered beneath his fingertips.

“Which is your dominant hand?” Fai said, leaning over.

“Left.”

“Could you write your name if I gave you a pen?”

“Probably,” Kurogane grunted and tucked his hand away.

“Wait,” Fai said. He held out his own hand. “Give it to me.”

Kurogane obliged, sinking as far into his seat as the cushions would allow. The doctor held his hand in one palm and pinched his fingers with the other hand. “Can you feel this?”

“Yes, I can,” Kurogane said, irritated.

Fai flattened Kurogane’s fingers and looked at his palm with drawn brows. “Quite a scar, mind you,” he said, eyeing the knot of pale flesh in the middle of Kurogane’s hand. “That probably doesn’t help.”

Kurogane jerked his hand away. “Don’t.”

Silence pricked the air between them and Fai was no longer smiling. He slid off the workbench and went to a sink on the other side of the room, where he drew a glass of water. Over the run of the faucet, he began to talk. “What effects did that injury have on your hand when you first got it?”

“About the same as now,” Kurogane said. “I couldn’t move it as well as before and the fingers were numb. But The Daidojis’ doctor helped me rehabilitate it, and I could use it again.”

“And did it have any negative effects after that?” Fai returned to the bench and held out the glass of water.

“What’s that for?”

“To keep you hydrated. You’ll be having breakfast, too.”

“I don’t want breakfast.”

“I don’t want you to pass out when I take your blood. It won’t be much, but I’m not having any risks.” Kurogane didn’t like the suggestion that he was too weak to handle some blood sampling. He was halfway through retorting when Fai said, “Your hand. Did it go back to being hard to move before you started mining?”

“Not for a long time,” Kurogane said. Fai waited, brows raised. Kurogane took the water from him and took a long gulp. “Not until a few weeks ago.”

“So this is a new development,” Fai said. “I have to say, it doesn’t look good.”

“I didn’t have a blood test at home. We don’t know how bad it is,” Kurogane protested. “They’d done us too many favours.”

“I think it would have been a waste of time, frankly,” Fai said. “I think you need to be here.” He got up and made for the door. “Wait here. I’ll get breakfast.”

Kurogane watched Fai’s coat flutter out of sight and found himself alone in the kitchen. The room was still half-asleep in early morning silence, so that Kurogane had nothing to listen to but the echo of Fai’s words. He clenched his fist over the scar tissue taut across his palm.

He glared around at the room, eyes scanning the sink and steel-topped counters, an ice box, and rows of cabinets under the counter and mounted to the walls. A cabinet in the far wall, underneath the counter, was padlocked shut. There were no tools littering the countertops, no clinking flasks or bubbling reagents as Kurogane might have imagined. It was all very tidy and quiet.

Fai re-entered the room dragging a stool behind him and carrying two slabs of bread – one with cheese and one with marmalade. The one with marmalade he passed to Kurogane. “Eat up. Then we’ll get started.”

He sat on the stool near Kurogane’s armchair and began to eat. Kurogane followed his lead, appreciating the silence. The bread was surprisingly tasty, full of seeds and wheat. “Did you make this?” Kurogane asked.

Fai nodded, mouth full. “Syaoran did it. He’s a genius.”

“Where is he?”

“Waking up, I assume,” Fai said, words muffled by another mouthful.

“He’s not helping?”

“Not today. I can do the sample on my own, and I think having other people here is just going to be a burden on you. I’ll make sure you’re not being assailed by more than one nosy stranger whenever I can.”

Kurogane tried to hide his surprise and nodded stiffly. That was a plan he could agree with. “Thanks.” He finished off his breakfast and took the plate to the sink while he waited for Fai to do whatever it was he was going to do next. The doctor dumped his plate on top of Kurogane’s before rummaging through one of the overhead cupboards for something. He drew out a slew of supplies, including a large syringe, then washed his hands and pulled on a pair of gloves.

Kurogane waited as Fai returned and dragged his stool closer, leaving the items on the workbench in the process. “Roll up your sleeve.”

Kurogane did. He didn’t like the feeling of bareness when he held out his right arm, and eyed Fai’s hands as the doctor wrapped a cloth strip securely above the elbow. Fai had cold hands, paler by far than Kurogane’s, so that they looked as icy as they felt. He flinched once or twice when Fai’s fingers brushed his arm. They moved over and under, cloth ring tightening until it was almost painful. “This is weird,” Kurogane muttered, shaking his head. Fai didn’t look up from the outstretched arm.

“Is it?”

Kurogane shrugged, but stopped when Fai held him still to knot the cloth. He didn’t know how to verbalise it – the sense of being probed by someone he didn’t trust. He didn’t trust anyone he didn’t know, on principle. They didn’t touch him. “You are a stranger,” is what he settled for.

“I am also a doctor,” Fai said. He opened a bottle of rubbing alcohol and dabbed it onto a square of cotton. “And you are sick.”

“I know,” Kurogane said sharply. Fai dragged the cold, wet cotton over his inner elbow, holding his arm still with the other hand. He had to fight the urge to pull away.

The doctor discarded the cotton after Kurogane’s arm was thoroughly cleaned. He held up the syringe and screwed a glass cylinder onto its base, pressing the air out in one slow motion. “I’m inserting this now. Hold still.” He spread the skin on Kurogane’s arm just enough that the swollen veins were visible underneath. Kurogane watched as the needle went in. He registered the alien discomfort of the tip finding his blood vessel and focused on the doctor’s hands. “I understand, though,” Fai said. “Well. Somewhat.”

Kurogane was still half annoyed. The cylinder gushed with dark red liquid, and he was reminded absurdly of the plum sauce from yesterday’s dinner.

Fai withdrew the needle and pressed Kurogane’s skin with fresh cotton. “Hold this down for a while,” he said, passing the task to Kurogane. He untied the tourniquet and carried the needle out of sight. “How long have you been a miner?”

Kurogane shrugged. “Seven years all up. Two years in the lead mines.”

“And you had no great exposure to lead before that?”

“I was a milk boy,” Kurogane said. Fai raised an eyebrow. “And nobody else in the family is in my kind of labour. So no. I didn’t.”

Fai opened a cupboard and placed the phial of blood inside, with an assortment of other stoppered liquids that Kurogane couldn’t make out. He took off his gloves, tossing them into a basket under one of the counters, and began to gather up his things. “Is that why you get up so early?”

“I always have.” Kurogane glanced at a high-vaulted window in the far wall. Morning was well underway, the light shifting from foggy silver to tender gold. He could hear birds calling. The sound was unusual to him, so rare was it in the city. It was one he liked.

“I have to move in the morning. I don’t like being crammed indoors.” He hesitated. “Especially when it’s still dark outside.”

“Dark, and you can smell the earth.” Fai looked like he would smile again, but the expression slipped away in favour of something that was more genuine; it was not a smile, but a clarity in his gaze that struck Kurogane with admiration he was not expecting. Fai’s brows were drawn, head titled to one side and wisps of hair caught in the shaft of light. “Well,” he said, “At least we have something in common.”

-

Sakura heaved a stack of books onto the side table by the couch. The walls around her burst with encyclopaedias and histories and novels of every kind. She hadn’t known what to pick. She wanted to read all of them.

“What will you read first?” Syaoran asked, pushing her own question to the brink. He was on the other side of the room, pulling something from one of the higher shelves. Sakura stopped to admire his coordination for a moment, looking over his shoulder at her while clinging to the frame of a ladder twice as tall as he was and carrying his own stack of books under the other arm.

“I don’t know yet,” she answered. “I got the natural history book you recommended. I might start with that.” She watched Syaoran pull books from the shelves a moment longer, then cracked the cover.

“You know,” she said, after reading the acknowledgements, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a chance to read this much.”

“Really?” Syaoran said. He sounded cordially surprised.

“Yes. I practised reading with Kurogane all the time when he joined the family.” She ran a hand fondly over the pages of the book, sighing happily at the reams of unexplored sentences. “Neither of us was very good. My parents could only read enough to run the business and I didn’t go to school.” She remembered fondly the nights when she would practice rereading their few books by candlelight. “Kurogane encouraged me a lot. Even after he got home and he was exhausted, he sat down with me and we read together. He helped me with all the hard words.”

She lowered her eyes, suddenly ashamed. Silence followed her words almost long enough to make her face turn red. But Syaoran spoke just in time. “I think that’s wonderful. I mean, I think it’s great. That you learned anyway.” Sakura caught the sheepish look on his face just before he hid it and descended the ladder. “Ask me if you want any help.”

She was still grinning when Syaoran glanced at her from his seat across the room. But she felt the smile fade when she thought about Kurogane alone in his room.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” she said. Syaoran looked up, frowning. His head tilted in a way that made her stomach flip, even as her throat tightened with fear for her brother.

“We’ll do everything we can,” he assured her.

“I just feel… sort of guilty,” she said. “He’s not the nicest person in the world, but he’s done so much for us. And I’m almost _happy_ to be here.”

“I think that’s okay,” Syaoran said. “He’s getting treatment, after all.” He shifted in his seat and looked back at his book. “And I’m glad we have visitors. As much as I like Fai, it gets lonely with just the two of us.”

They were silent after that, neither brave enough to continue the thread of their conversation. It was bizarre, Sakura thought to herself, sitting in someone else’s mansion and lounging, without cost or judgement, in front of a boy she hardly knew. But she noticed the room grow brighter when she made it to page fifty. The sun had already risen. So she mustn’t have felt that out 


	3. Formaldehyde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurogane begins treatment and faces the side-effects for the first time. He and Fai make an effort to build familiarity to ease the process. But just as Kurogane is beginning to consider Fai a companion, he finds something that calls all his trust for the doctor into question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far and hope this chapter satisfies. My real life commitments have increased very suddenly and significantly recently (yay unpaid work experience), but I intend to keep updating consistently, if a little slowly.

_Dear Tomoyo,_

_How are you?_

_I’m writing to let you know that everything is going smoothly. Kurogane started his treatment a week ago. His health isn’t improving yet, but we’re glad he isn’t getting worse. Fai says I might have some of the lead poisoning too, just from living with Kurogane – but don’t worry! He said that in my case being away from the mines should fix it._

_Fai has a huge library, and I’ve been reading everything I can. His assistant Syaoran and I have been studying together. Syaoran is very nice, and he also makes tea. He got some orders for it this week and I’m helping him make it and box it up. One of the customers is a regular who I haven’t met yet. He says she’s a bit_ esoteric _but I can’t wait to meet her. He makes her sound so interesting!_

_I want to let you know how grateful I am. You and your family have given us so much and it’s paying off. Fai and Syaoran are immensely good to us, and I think Kurogane is getting used to the idea of being a patient. I hope he gets better soon._

_I wish you the best in your studies! I hope we can see each other again once I get back._

_Lots of love from your friend,_

_Sakura_

* * *

 

Kurogane looked up from his book when he heard Sakura’s laughter in the drive. She and Fai were traipsing up the gravel path, chatting as they went. Kurogane buried his nose back into the pages and only looked up again when the door creaked open.

“Hey.”

“Kurogane!” Sakura darted into the room, a bag of shopping in her arms. “How are you feeling? We got you some biscuits.”

Kurogane suppressed a snort. “Thanks, kid. Lemme help.” He put his book aside and stood up, shrugging off the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. It had barely fallen onto the cushions before he teetered and found himself slumped on the couch again. His legs had buckled.

“Are you okay?” Sakura suppressed the shrill in her voice as she craned forward. He saw her hand on his when the blank haze cleared from his eyes, and jerked away.

“I’m fine,” he said. It sounded harsher than he’d intended.

Fai clucked his tongue unhelpfully. “I hope you haven’t been trying that all day,” he said. “Rest a few more hours.” He ushered Sakura gently away and followed her, murmuring reassurances, into the kitchen, while Kurogane gathered himself up.

Kurogane’s face burned. For all that the air weighed heavy on his lungs and his arms felt like iron lumps, he wanted to hit something. He eyed Syaoran’s lovingly crafted cushions and cursed instead.

The same thing had happened immediately after his first round of therapy that morning. He was against leaving his poisoning unchecked for so long, and had insisted on beginning treatment the very day after Fai determined the severity to be dangerous. But Fai had warned against rushing into treatment if the symptoms were manageable. Now Kurogane saw why.

The process itself hadn’t been so bad. Fai stuck a tube into Kurogane’s arm, which fed his veins an off-yellow liquid from a bag in the hat rack. Fai had an important hand in creating this chemical formula and advised that it was potent. It would cling to the lead in Kurogane’s blood, Fai said, so that it could be excreted naturally. It could also draw essential vitamins and minerals out of Kurogane’s body and make him sick. After the session, when Kurogane ignored Fai’s urges to rest and rose from the chair, he nearly collapsed from dizziness. Fai had to hold him up until he could lean against the counter by himself.

Kurogane’s poisoning had only been about two-thirds of the amount usual before permanent damage became a risk. Symptoms affecting the nervous system usually showed first. The numbness in his already fragile left hand had alerted him to the condition early, and saved him getting any worse. It was lucky that he’d already injured it so badly. The weekly treatment should cure him.

But the side effects provided their own challenges. Kurogane remembered drinking coffee once as a child. A client had given it to his father, and after Kurogane had prodded and hinted for long enough, his father had mischievously let him have his way. Kurogane could still remember the patterns on the rim of the teacup, and the black liquid rippling inside, emanating its bitter, early-morning smell. Wanting to prove his maturity, he drank it all in one sitting. The feeling in his hands then resembled what he felt now. They flitted and jerked when he tried to hold his book, as though his joints were made of string.

Kurogane gathered up his book and spread the blanket over his lap. He stared at his hands a moment, then determined to keep reading. The doctor returned from the kitchen without Sakura a few minutes later. “She’s gone to help Syaoran with his tea,” Fai said, answering the silent question. He eyed Kurogane, smile thin. “Any other symptoms?”

Kurogane huffed and looked back at his book. “Not really. Still a bit nauseous.”

“Good.” Fai flopped into the chair across from Kurogane as they had done the night they met. Kurogane still found the sight disconcerting. The doctor was too long-limbed and nonchalant, like a cat pretending to be a person. His eyes turned shrewd as they fell on the book Kurogane was holding, and Kurogane tried to tilt it away.

“Do you like fantasies?”

Kurogane glared. He hid his book in the folds of the blanket. It was second in a series of novels that rollicked with pictures of knights and quests, and he’d taken a liking to them. “I haven’t read many,” he said.

“You should,” Fai said. “Those books are fabulous.”

Kurogane hid his surprise under a narrow gaze. “I didn’t think you’d be the type,” he admitted.

Fai shrugged. “I like the adventure.”

“Me too.”

The doctor smirked, and Kurogane found his eyes compelled by the happy gaze. “Go on then,” Fai said. “Don’t let me keep you.”

He didn’t take Fai’s advice immediately, but waited, watching. The doctor hadn’t sat here for nothing. “What is it?” Kurogane said at last. Now that he imagined what the answer might be, he felt nervous.

Fai’s smile turned hard. He was guarded. “Not much,” he said. “I was just thinking I’m hiding away in my study too much.” He held a hand towards the fire, turning it into the heat. “If I recall, _Mister Kurogane_ , you were the one who suggested I take a more active role in my patients’ care.” That much was true. Kurogane had snarled it as Fai left earlier that day, while he had to sit bundled up in blankets like a hideous patchwork caterpillar.

“Alright. For a start, cut the ‘Mister’ crap,” Kurogane said. He would have thrown the book at him if he’d had less respect for the book, or more respect for the tremble in his hands. “Why do you do that?”

Fai smirked. “So I thought I’d come sit with you,” he continued, paying no attention to Kurogane’s question. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re not a very traditional doctor,” Kurogane said. “Figures, though. I’d wager I’m actually your first patient.”

Fai said nothing. He continued smiling absently and gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’ve administered drugs hundreds of times before. I also make them.”

“What, so you’re a nurse.”

“I have a PhD in pharmaceuticals. That makes me a doctor.”

“But you’re still _my_ nurse.”

Fai raised his eyebrows. The smile turned gleeful and the lines around his eyes deepened. “I wasn’t under the impression I was _your_ anything, but have it your way.”

This time, Kurogane grabbed a pillow and hurled it at the doctor’s legs. The doctor actually laughed, scooping the pillow from the floor and wedging it between himself and the arm of his chair. Kurogane felt slightly better. At least now he had an excuse to frown that wasn’t due to being ill.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered. Fai only smiled.

Kurogane had returned to his book, glancing up occasionally as the doctor opened a nearby tome or plucked at his bound hair, when Fai suddenly sat up and looked towards the door. Kurogane followed his gaze with interest. The colossal entrance doors were shut, but a small shadow moved beneath them.

“It must be Soel,” Fai said. Kurogane straightened his collar and rearranged the skewed throw rug on his lap as Fai got up and opened the door, but only slightly. Though the crack was hardly wide enough for a person, Kurogane could instantly feel the warm interior air swirl with dusk. Fai seemed to agree on keeping the warmth in and the cold out, and beckoned impatiently at whoever – or whatever – he was looking down at. Kurogane waited. He had no idea who the doctor’s guest was, but he was becoming less and less convinced it was a person.

Finally, something small and white slinked inside between Fai’s feet. The doctor shut the door on the chill and swept up the little creature in his arms, kissing it on the head. “Where have you been! You’ve got people to meet.” He turned suddenly on Kurogane. “You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”

Kurogane tried not to grimace. “No,” he conceded.

Fai said no more and carried the cat to his seat, placing her on the cushions. The cat leaned into Fai’s hand and mewled. Her white fur yellowed in places as though she had been running wild, and she orbited Fai’s hands with the ardour of a lover returned home.

“Look at your eyes,” Fai said, almost to himself. The cat had eyes like glass marbles, pale and all-encompassing. “Have you ever seen a cat with a pair of planets instead of eyes?”

The cat turned away from Fai at last, gaze shifting to Kurogane. She gave Fai one last mewl and pranced onto the floor. Kurogane sat still as she padded closer. Her eyes had the eerie sheen of all non-human things, conscious but unconcerned by the forbidding face of the man before her. She stopped in front of the blanket-clad shape of his feet and then, paw by paw, arched upwards to prod his lap. He snatched his book away and stared. The cat was insistent. When it looked as though her pleading would not convince him to reach down and draw her into his arms, she made her decision. The cat leapt onto Kurogane’s blanket and let her tail engulf his nose, oblivious to his protests.

“Get off,” he growled. He tried to brush her away, but her feet were rooted to the spot. The only movement he got out of her was to make her press closer. The cat continued to purr obnoxiously, tipping her head into his elbow and nuzzling it. “ _Get_!” He slung a hand under her belly and flung her off; she fell to the rug with a thud. He heard her purrs soften as she looked around, as though in a daze. Unassuming eyes looked up at him and he looked away.

“What was that for?” Fai’s voice was uncharacteristically pragmatic.

Kurogane didn’t answer. He shrugged and resumed reading, but the words slipped off the surface of his mind. The snarl and pop of the fire only amplified the silence that otherwise stuffed the room. “I don’t like cats,” he offered at last.

Fai was quiet for a moment. “I see.” Soel sought comfort in his extended hand, and he looked at her with lowered eyes. Kurogane didn’t dare look for the expression under the pale shock of hair, and settled for looking at Fai’s feet instead. “Anyway,” Fai said. Kurogane felt something in his stomach drop as the doctor stood up, patting his leg for Soel to follow. The feeling solidified when Fai smiled at him, eyes blank. “I have to finish off some things in that study of mine. I might see you for dinner.”

Words escaped Kurogane yet again as he watched Fai leave. Once he was gone, the room swayed under the weight of its emptiness. Kurogane looked around, wary of the eyes of one of the children, afraid that they had been watching, too. But there was nobody else present. He cursed at himself. What was this frailty? Was he supposed to believe that he was strapped to his seat, shackled by a throw rug? He kicked it off. It tangled in his legs and he bucked once again, harder. The thing fell to the floor and he waited a moment before standing up.

He was expecting the swoon this time, and leant over to hold himself against the arm of the chair. His head filled with white noise and his eyes clouded over, but after a long moment, conscious to keep his legs steady, he stood straight. The daze was over. He still felt a little weak, but he wasn’t going to collapse.

He waited. He didn’t know what he had stood up for, exactly, only that he could no longer bear to sit down. It was still cold, so he picked up the blanket and draped it over his shoulders. As an afterthought, he plucked up the book as well. He’d lost his page, but he’d find it later.

Loathe to stand around aimlessly, he walked to the door. There was a small, scaly window in the wall beside it. The cold of the glass whispered on his skin as he leant in, peering at the vales outside. Night was falling; that was abrupt, he thought. The front ‘garden’ was distorted in the window, a mass of coils that writhed as he moved from side to side to see it from different angles. Dusk shed overcast light onto the boughs of the nearest trees. Some fruit had formed on their branches in just the past few days, barely discernible, but he had seen them on his walks. He knew there were pears, and Fai had told him about blueberries and walnuts, too.

Kurogane suddenly realised he couldn’t smell the room; he couldn’t tell the scent of his surroundings apart from what was usual. It had been less than a week, but he’d acclimated shockingly fast to living in the manor. He still didn’t like the waste or the way its empty spaces echoed. But he did not feel out of place surrounded by the cloves-and-must smell of the entrance hall, or the whiffs of soil and mildew he caught on the back balcony. Somewhere in the interim between his hesitant arrival and now, he had accepted these things. It was hardly worth trying to figure out the when. If he looked back on the past few days, he found them conjoined and rambling, full of feeling sick, full of feeling angry, full of the smell of cooking and the sound of Sakura turning pages in a book she would once have been unable to read. He’d spent each morning getting up early to walk through the garden, and more often than not he would see Fai somewhere nearby, and they would chat before breakfast, before the doctor disappeared into the larger kitchen for the day.

Kurogane, on the other hand, did not know what to do. It felt strange not to have his work to regulate the flow of time. There was no indication of the world in here. It was cleaner than home, and quieter, and without the churning miasma of coal smells and rancid gutters, but at least that felt real. Most days he spent outside. Out there, he faced neither the odours of home nor the creeping familiarity of his new accommodation. He would have only the trees and the darkness to confide in, and that was all he needed.

But he felt something stir his insides. Whatever was still sinking slowly through his stomach was displacing his ease, and he couldn’t bring himself to feel content. He let his hand slip over the glass and turned back to the entrance hall. He couldn’t give himself permission to direct his anger away from himself, either.

He crossed the room and slipped past the warmth of the fireplace, stepping into the hallway. He could hear Syaoran and Sakura murmuring inside the kitchen, the scrape of boxes and footsteps concealing their words. He wasn’t sure which of the adjoining halls branched into the area he was looking for. He determined to wander in the correct direction until he found it.

It didn’t take long. Though quiet, he heard the tell-tale dip and thrum of the piano playing after searching the larger halls. Fai must have been in there. The cat, too, probably. The music lingered in the cracks of open doors and skirted the corridors until one of the entrances Kurogane came to was the right one. He waited behind this closed door, listening and holding his breath. Fai meandered when he played. He’d play something short, and then lapse into silence; he’d add a flourish or two to that silence, and then, after a gradual revival, he would begin to play something new. Kurogane didn’t know much about music. It annoyed him that the doctor didn’t just pick a tune and keep to it, when the finesse of his playing clearly demonstrated that he had skill. But he listened anyway, ear pressed to the door, for several songs.

It was in a brief silence that he mustered the courage to knock on the door. The claps rang hollow on the wood. “Can I come in?”

Kurogane heard a mewl before he heard Fai’s voice. There was a tell-tale shadow under the door. “Come in,” Fai said.

He did. The cat moved aside as Kurogane eased the door open on the room with the piano and the window seat. Soel waited at his feet. He stared at her. Did cats hold grudges?

“She likes you,” Fai said. He pushed a few random keys, eyes averted. “She came here for the first time a few years ago and she’s been coming back ever since. I don’t know how she managed before, but it took a while to coax her out of shyness. Good thing we kept trying. After I held her once, she wouldn’t stop climbing on us and sitting in our laps. It was like she’d never been petted before.”

Kurogane didn’t answer. Soel wound herself around one leg and looked up at him. He felt sorry for her, throwing herself in his path as though oblivious to his earlier behaviour. He bent down and held a hand above her, awaiting her response. When she leaned up into it, he scratched behind the ear and let her rub her face over his palm. Her legs crossed over as she let her weight fall into his palm, and then she rebalanced and did it again, and he felt like he had apologised.

“I just wanted to say sorry for earlier,” Kurogane said. “Shouldn’t have been like that.”

Fai’s hand swept across the piano and a string of notes followed in its wake. “You’re not in the easiest of places,” he said. “It’s okay.”

“What’s ‘okay’ about any of this?” Kurogane felt himself bristling again, and continued as evenly as he could. “Don’t put everything down to my being sick. I’m – I’m sick of it.”

“You’re right,” Fai said. His hand relaxed on the edge of the piano and try as Kurogane might, he couldn’t catch the man’s gaze. “Sorry.”

Kurogane rolled his eyes and sank into the window seat with a groan. “I didn’t mean to…” he sighed. “What for?”

Fai didn’t answer. He played another song, hands spidering up and down the scales, and Kurogane sat back to listen. Soel crawled into his lap again, and this time he let her stay, stroking her uncertainly behind the ear. “Is this your study?” Kurogane ventured when Fai stopped playing.

“No,” Fai said, snickering despite himself. “Clearly not.”

“Didn’t you have something to do?”

Fai poked the keys again. “I always have something to do.” The cryptic answer was almost enough to make Kurogane give up and stare out the window. Luckily, Fai followed it up by turning on his stool to face him, leaning back into the piano with a grin. “Would that we were in the same boat, hm?”

“What boat?” Kurogane muttered.

“You’re bored, I imagine,” Fai said, “and if the treatment is going to be as uncomfortable for you as it has been so far, I think we need to find some common ground.”

“Yeah, well,” Kurogane said, “I like wine.”

“Excellent. So do I.” Fai crossed to a bookshelf in the corner of the room and pulled some boxes aside, producing two bottles. Kurogane’s eyes widened and the doctor smirked. “You can’t drink, unfortunately,” said Fai, “So the elderberry cordial is for you.”

“Of course it is,” Kurogane said, taking the outstretched bottle and a small glass that Fai had withdrawn from somewhere. Soel stuck steadfast in his lap as he squirmed aside to make room for Fai, who had decided to sit on the other end of the window seat. Fai poured himself a glass of wine and tipped it dutifully against Kurogane’s before drinking. Kurogane did the same with his cordial, watching as Fai closed his eyes when he lifted the glass to his lips.

“So,” Fai continued. “What else can we agree on?”

“Why do we need to agree on anything?”

“Because I’m treating you,” Fai said, “And the least I can do is make sure you’re not so uncomfortable with it.”

Kurogane groaned under his breath. He ran a hand over Soel, conscious of the way Fai watched him. He was sure he looked clumsy, rough, quivering hands on her soft back. “That’s not what it’s about. I just don’t like doctors.”

“You don’t like doctors,” Fai said, “or you don’t like being a patient?”

“Both,” Kurogane said with a snort. “I don’t like being examined.”

“Understandable,” Fai said. He shot Kurogane a deflective smile. “Neither do I.”

Kurogane was taken aback by the response. He returned Fai’s gaze and held on to it for as long as he could, until finally the doctor looked away. Fai’s words seemed to perfectly contradict his actions. He took another swig of his wine and settled into the chair, looking at his hands. The dusky light from the window etched his outline into the darkness. He didn’t seem to notice the way his companion looked at him.

Kurogane hadn’t seen his profile in this much detail before. His eyes wandered over the angles of Fai’s cheeks and the long bridge of his nose, the wind-roughened shape of his lips and the contours of a sinuous neck. That face had a wry tendency to it, and the eyes still occasionally caught Kurogane with their strange reverence. He realised what he was doing and looked away, looking between the cat and the cordial and drinking again. Bittersweet heat filled his throat and he wished it was wine.

“How old are you?” Kurogane tried.

“Older than you,” Fai said.

“Obviously.” Unwilling to give up, he sighed and tried again. “How long have you been here?”

Fai traced the rim of his glass with a fingertip. “Years.” Kurogane noticed he was missing a nail. The flesh was pale and worn underneath. “What about you? Have you always lived in the city?”

“Yeah.” Kurogane thought back to the labyrinth of people and false patches of privacy he called home. “Since I was born.”

Fai cocked his head, apparently remembering something. “And you moved in with Sakura’s family…”

“…When I was fifteen,” Kurogane finished. “Orphaned.”

Fai hummed as though he understood now. “You must have outgrown the title quickly, at that age.” Kurogane shrugged. “I hung on to it for a little longer.”

Kurogane fixed his eyes on Fai again, longing to pin him in place. “That’s a lot about me,” he said.

Fai looked hesitant. Kurogane’s gaze didn’t waver. “Fine,” Fai said. “I’m turning forty this year. There.”

Kurogane nodded. He wasn’t sure, but he though he saw a flash of relief on Fai’s face. “That’s one less mystery.”

Fai was on his third glass of wine (Kurogane having downed one of cordial and declined a second) when he got to his feet and made a suggestion. “Do you want to listen to some music? I have a gramophone.”

“What, one?” Kurogane said. “Thought you’d have at least ten.”

“Ha.” Fai left the room with a click of his tongue. Kurogane petted Soel and waited, listening to Fai rummage in the next room. He came back hauling a gramophone on a trolley behind him. Records were stacked on the bottom rack, threatening to spill over as the trolley jerked to a stop by the piano. “What do you want to listen to? I have all sorts of stuff in here…”

“Anything,” Kurogane said. “Pick your favourite.”

Fai traced the stack with a finger, crouching beside the trolley. Slowly, his hand came to hover over something in the pile and flexed as though to take it. Kurogane couldn’t see what it was. Then Fai picked something else and stood up.  He flashed the cardboard sleeve to Kurogane.

“My favourite piano compilation.”

He put it on and the room filled with music, brisker than what Fai had played. Fai turned on the lamps and resumed his seat in front of the blackening window. He poured himself another drink and sighed.

“I’ve always envied musicians who could play songs like this,” he said.

Kurogane cocked an eyebrow. “You could probably do it, too, if you wanted to. I heard you playing.”

Fai laughed humourlessly. “Envy isn’t the same thing as want.”

Kurogane was caught between rolling his eyes and getting them stuck staring at Fai again. He turned his attention to Soel instead. “Whatever. Is this the kind of stuff you always listen to?”

Fai cocked his head. “Mostly, yes?”

Kurogane shrugged. “I don’t know shit about music but it’s nice, I guess.” He threw a hand up at the flyaway compliment and almost went to take another drink before remembering his glass was empty.

Fai nodded, smirking. “Thank you,” he said, still laughing as he drew his own glass to his lips. “You have good taste.” Kurogane scoffed and Fai laughed again, and he found himself smiling at the sound.

“You can put it away, can’t you?”

“Hm?”

Kurogane nodded to the glass. “Your drink.”

Fai grinned. “When you’re better, you can help me clean out the wine in the cellar.”

It was late when Syaoran appeared at the door asking if anyone wanted dinner; Fai said he would eat later, and Kurogane declined for the time being, queasy as he still was. They could hear Sakura and Syaoran clattering around in the kitchen for a while after, and then not at all.

“It’s already nine,” Fai said after he’d changed the record twice. “I actually do have some work to finish by tomorrow, so I should probably get to my study.”

“Sure.” Kurogane tried to stand, remembered Soel, who was still sleeping curled in his lap, and stayed sitting. “What do I do with this?”

“Take her to bed with you,” Fai said.

“I don’t want to sleep with a cat.”

“Then find Sakura or Syaoran and leave her with one of them,” he insisted. “She’ll like the company. But don’t stay up too long, you need rest. And don’t forget to eat in the morning.”

Fai bade him goodnight at the door and they parted, Soel tucked into Kurogane’s arms. Her tail flopped over his elbow as he stole through the dark corridors, looking for a shaft of light that might alert him to the presence of Sakura or Syaoran. He spotted it eventually, exactly where he thought it would be.

Sakura and Syaoran were seated very close together on the same couch when Kurogane entered the library. He cleared his throat as he came in, and snorted when Syaoran scuttled three feet away from Sakura in the space of a second.

“Calm down,” he said. The pair looked sheepishly at him. Syaoran gave a tiny wave. “Do you guys want a cat?”

Syaoran looked mostly surprised, but Sakura’s eyes lit up. She gasped audibly, and Kurogane was pleased to see the boy break out in a toothy smile beside her. “And who are _you_? Oh Kurogane, it’s gorgeous…” She held out her arms to take Soel. The cat roused from her slumber as Kurogane passed her to Sakura, and she let herself be lowered into the girl’s embrace.

Syaoran laughed and ran a hand through her fur. “It’s nice to see you! When did she come in?”

“This afternoon. Fai let her in.”

Kurogane left the pair to croon over the cat and each other and meandered back into the hallway. He could hear the tail end of Syaoran’s explanation about Soel and her mysterious origins as he paced away into the bowels of the manor.

He didn’t want to go to bed yet. He hadn’t had his fill of walking, which irked him. He wandered through the halls at the rear of the estate until he was near the balconies facing the back garden. He caught sight of a window through the doorway of the telescope room and sighed. The night was moonlit and lush with the sounds of the wind. He couldn’t wait until he was able to get out again.

He felt his arms sag when he crossed them to shield against the cold. His head felt dense again all of a sudden, the familiar swoon returning. With a groan, he decided to turn back and head upstairs.

He was next to the door of the large kitchen when he had to stop to rest. Grumbling, he leaned back against the doorframe, looking up at the window in the vaulted wall as he waited for his strength to return. Tree boughs scraped the glass, making the room whine, and Kurogane thought of going up to prune them another day. Then he remembered he was hardly even able to pick himself up at the moment. Well, maybe at the end of his treatment. He had to show his thanks somehow.

As he waited, he caught sight of something glimmering in the corner of the kitchen. It was the padlock on the far cupboard. And the cupboard was open.

Slowly, Kurogane’s brows knit. He had seen the items in most of the other cabinets, having dropped in from time to time while Fai was at work measuring chemicals and dipping rods of metal into blood. Fai had proudly declared the danger of all the murky liquids and foreign instruments in his cupboards, which Kurogane had full view of whenever the doctor opened one of them. He seemed to take pleasure in the exasperated look on Kurogane’s face when he pointed them out. Despite its dangerous contents, the room was usually unlocked; but Kurogane simply put this down to the doctor’s lax nature.

He had wondered about the far cupboard, the only exception.

Slowly, wondering why he was bothered about it at all, Kurogane entered the room. Syaoran’s words whispered back to him from the day he had met the boy – nobody was permitted to enter this room without Fai also being present. It seemed to be the only rule Fai had set out.

With a prickling sense of guilt, Kurogane crept towards the cupboard and kneeled down to peer inside. The interior was completely dark. He looked about him, trying to remember where he had seen Fai pull matches and burners from. It was close by. He opened the drawer and felt around for a small box. This he took out and, fumbling inside for the pin-sized matches, managed to strike a small flame. He held it to the open cupboard.

Inside were a row of sealed flasks.  The one on the far right contained a pair of what might have been fish, or lizards, long and pink and lifeless. They were suspended in clear fluid, next to a label that read _Fritz and Felix_. The next jar was even more bizarre. Inside was a tiny red spot. Kurogane couldn’t tell what it was; the label simply read _Rabbit_.

Similar jars lined the whole top shelf. Kurogane scanned them, each just as strange as the one before. A sea urchin, another salamander, two more simply-labelled, miniscule blobs. The last label was the only one without a jar. From the way it had been pushed to the back of the row, it looked like the accompanying jar had been removed a long time ago.

Kurogane’s match fizzled out just as he set his sight on it. He probed for another one, striking three clumsy times before a flame caught on the tip. He held it up to the label to make out the word. Before he had totally registered what he was seeing, a cold shudder swept up his spine.

 _Syaoran_.

For a bewildered moment, he felt around in the cupboard for something else, but found nothing. Syaoran – that’s all the label said. The boy’s face flashed across his mind. What did that mean?

He shook out the match, heart suddenly racing. He breathed deeply for a moment, easing the cupboard door closed, and then remembered that it had been open when he arrived. He left it ajar, returned the matches to their drawer, and thrust the remaining charred sticks into his pocket. Then he walked out as quickly as he could.

He realised as he reached the doorway that he must have stood up too quickly. The blood had rushed away from his head, and his already shaky legs were failing. He made it to the opposite wall of the corridor in time to slump against it. He couldn’t hear himself when he opened his mouth to call out for someone – didn’t want to worry Sakura, couldn’t think of uttering the boy’s name, wondered where Fai’s study was as he shouted as loudly as his limp voice could muster – and had fallen to the floor by the time his vision went black.


	4. The Broken Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurogane makes a confrontation and Sakura makes a discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Sorry for bringing this chapter out so late. Between the KF Olympics, graduation, and a 70,000 word policy manual :))) I haven't been as committed to this fic as I'd have liked.
> 
> But anyway! The show goes on. The gothy pretense continues. Fai is a loser and I love him.

_City Police Dept. Investigators, the case of the Blackthorne Bridge Accident_

  * _A description of the photograph attached to the damages report_



_A train carriage, pummelled and overturned, lying on the shore of the river after retrieval. The metal has been warped in several locations as though struck by debris. The fixed seats and some of their occupants are still visible inside. A waterlogged suitcase lies close nearby. The photograph was captured 40ft from the site of the incident._

  * _Summary of the official damages report_



_A night train bound for the city was submerged with all passengers and crew on board when the Blackthorne Bridge suddenly collapsed over the river. A lethal combination of structural weaknesses and ill-maintenance resulted in overloading from the weight of the passing train, which should have been able to cross with ease. None on board survived._

_The accident indicates an increased need for vigilance and thorough oversight of engineering practices in future infrastructure projects. The development of infrastructure must be founded on rigorous planning and the strongest, most high-quality materials the city can muster if such disasters are to be avoided in future. The city’s economic stability and the quality of life of its citizens depends on ongoing attention to this matter._

* * *

Kurogane heard the murmur of voices before he opened his eyes. A youthful, calm utterance reassured him of where he was at once. He was at the manor, in some sickbed, and Syaoran was standing sentinel at his bedside, speaking to someone. The husky tone of Fai’s voice was there, too, but so restrained it might have been whispered through a hole in the wall.

“Make sure you keep up his fluids. I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Of course.”

Kurogane pried his eyes open and saw Fai hurry out the door. He was wearing no coat again. Although a fire was burning in the corner of the room, Kurogane felt an urge to pull the blankets closer around him. He felt two things then, as he moved his arm – one was the sting of a needle in his inner elbow and the other was Syaoran’s hands on his shoulders, moving to restrain him.

“Keep still. You don’t want to move that too much.”

Kurogane felt a rebuke roll heavy on his tongue and tried to shrug off the contact. He looked up at Syaoran. It was hard to keep his eyes open. Syaoran was dressed in his usual well-kempt attire, suitably warm and sleek around a tall, robust figure. His thick, dark hair was combed back so that he appeared more studious than usual, and he was unsmiling. But the knit of his brows betrayed a thoroughly human concern. He always looked vaguely concerned, Kurogane thought.

He stopped fighting the daze and let his eyes slip shut. “You’re a good kid,” he grumbled.

A moment of silence was all that suggested Syaoran’s surprise. “Thank you,” he said. After another hesitation, he reached over Kurogane’s now-relaxed arm to straighten the intravenous cord. Kurogane did not resist as the boy draped it comfortably over the cushions and stepped back. “Fai is downstairs talking to a customer of mine,” he said. “They’ve known each other a long time and she said she wanted to speak to him. He won’t be up for a while.”

“Good,” Kurogane said. It felt like his mouth was caked with flour. His mind was swimming with half-formed images of the reagents and the floating creatures he’d seen the night before. Was it ridiculous of him to suspect anything unusual? Something in that dark room had lodged in his gut and made him feel wary, watched, haunted. He hadn’t even come to a conclusion about what he’d seen. Why would Syaoran’s name be locked in a cupboard like a science experiment with all those bent and naked things? Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps the label denoted Syaoran’s particular jar of study. But the conclusion didn’t feel right. The lock still clawed the cupboard shut, gleaming in the match light.

Drowsy as Kurogane was, he felt compelled to talk. “Hey kid,” he said, “Pull up a chair.”

He opened his eyes. Syaoran blinked back at him, then obediently drew a wooden chair to Kurogane’s bedside and sat in it.

“Who found me last night?”

“I did. You were in the hallway outside the kitchen. Fai wanted to ask you about that.”

“Did he?” Kurogane chuckled. “I was taking a walk.”

Syaoran’s look of concern deepened. “You didn’t go in, did you?” He shuffled his feet and looked down. “I mean, Fai doesn’t like people going in without him.”

“Well, I did.”

The boy’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

Syaoran’s reaction was enough to make Kurogane’s lip twitch up. There was something going on in this place, as he’d speculated from the start, and the boy knew it, too. “I saw this cupboard open that’s usually locked.” Syaoran’s eyes widened, and Kurogane had to laugh again. It was impossible for this kid to keep his thoughts to himself. “You know about it?”

“What Fai keeps in there is his business.”

“What about you?” Kurogane said. He held the boy’s eyes, and had to commend Syaoran for returning his stare with equal composure. “Your name was in there, on a little plaque, next to all those _things_. What the hell was that?”

For the first time since Kurogane had met him, Syaoran looked sombre instead of alert. He shook his head with a sad smile. “I hoped you hadn’t seen that. It should probably have been… moved.” He straightened the already-straight intravenous cords hanging from the hat rack and tried to ignore the way Kurogane looked at him, but the effort was short-lived. “I appreciate your concern,” he began, “and you have every right to be cautious. You are in our care.”

“Yes,” Kurogane muttered. He shifted uncomfortably beneath the blankets. “I am.”

“But what you saw has absolutely no impact on Fai’s or my ability to care for you. You’re safe.” He hesitated before leaving his final remark. “With all due respect – and I mean that – what you saw is a very private matter between Fai and me.”

So that was that. Kurogane felt his eyes narrow on the boy’s face, ignoring the groggy feeling that constantly welled in his body. Syaoran accepted the glare before turning shamefully away. “I have to know if he’s hurting you or anyone,” Kurogane said. “We’re putting a lot of faith in you. I’m not sticking around to find out we’re in the midst of something we shouldn’t be. Me _or_ my sister.”

Syaoran nodded slowly. The set of his jaw was grave. “You have my word,” he said. “It must look strange, and I’m not going to hide that it… kind of is. But I promise it’s something Fai and I are both fully aware and in control of. There is no risk to anyone.”

Kurogane looked long and hard at the boy. His eyes were wide and yielding, as usual, and held none of the reticence that Fai’s had. Kurogane thought of Sakura, and nodded despite his lingering concern.

“I’m placing my trust in you because I have no choice,” he said. “That doesn’t change the consequences of breaking it.”

He didn’t have to articulate his threat any further than that. “I understand,” the boy said.

Kurogane shifted again beneath the bedding. The sheets felt taut around his abdomen from having been tucked in to ward off the cold, and now he could feel a touch of sweat accumulating on his hairline. The heat in his face would have been enough to tell him he was feeling ill even if it weren’t for the queasiness in his stomach. “So am I okay?” he grumbled.

“Not enough to do anything but lie in bed for a while,” Syaoran said, confirming Kurogane’s fears.

“How long?”

“A day at most.” Syaoran pulled off a pair of gloves he’d been wearing, the gesture making him look far more adult than Kurogane was used to. “But I don’t want to understate your condition, either. You overexerted yourself while you were already unwell, which is why you’re taking longer than expected to recover from the treatment.”

Kurogane swore. His heartbeat filled his head and he had to close his eyes on Syaoran again, nausea suddenly sweeping over him.

“Can I speak to the doctor?” Kurogane murmured through the rush.

Syaoran hesitated. “Not right now. As I explained, he’s downstairs talking to one of my clients.”

“Then tell him to get up here.”

“I honestly can’t. He’s not cooper-”

Kurogane suddenly felt himself heave and leaned over the edge of the bed, crushing his right arm in the process. Syaoran was just in time to pass him a bucket that had been placed nearby.

His throat seared as he brought up mostly fluid, realising he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. As soon as his convulsions ceased, Kurogane was able to steady himself with his crushed arm. His face burned with equal parts embarrassment and fever and he tried to push himself up to move away.

“Here,” Syaoran said, passing him a cloth. The boy made sure Kurogane’s intravenous cord was still in place and waited while the older man cleaned himself off. Syaoran seemed unfazed by the whole event, so Kurogane tried to tell himself that it wouldn’t faze him, either. He still didn’t make eye contact with the boy as a cup of water was passed into his hands.

A knock on the door saved him from his thoughts. When he heard the voice on the other side, he felt instantly sick again. “Hello, Syaoran, Kurogane? I heard you’re awake and I wanted to see you.”

-

Sakura rapped twice on the door, once for each of the people behind it. She wanted to imagine that things were improving and that, when she opened the door, Kurogane would be sitting up with a book in hand and a subtle pout on his face, as usual, and Syaoran would be tending the fireside with as much care and professionalism as if he had something far worse to worry about.

What she heard instead was Kurogane’s cracked and whispering voice pleading with Syaoran. _“Don’t let her in!”_ A harsh retching sound followed his words and made her heart lurch.

“Hang on,” Syaoran called.

Footsteps eventually clicked a path to the door, and Syaoran inched it open and slipped through as quickly as he could. Sakura tried to catch a glimpse of Kurogane on the other side but Syaoran deftly kept her oblivious to the sight by sliding the door shut behind him.

“Is he okay?” Sakura said. Her voice hardly rose above a whisper.

Syaoran took a deep breath. “He’s okay,” he began, though his tone wasn’t reassuring. “He’s still quite ill from last night.”

“What about the next treatment?” Sakura said. “He can’t have another one when he’s in this state…”

“No,” Syaoran agreed. “I think it will be at least a week.” Sakura met his large, dark eyes. She wanted to throw her hands up or hold him or at least cover her face. But she was determined to hold her poise. “I gave Miss Ichihara her order. She’s talking to Fai now.” A hesitation; then, “Should I go get him?”

Syaoran paused. The sounds of Kurogane moving about in the bed came muffled from behind the door, and Syaoran leaned back on it. “I’m not sure.”

Sakura frowned. “Why not?”

“He doesn’t seem capable of handling this situation at the moment.” His clipped tone took Sakura aback. She wasn’t sure she was seeing it - she had never seen Syaoran speak ill of Fai - but the boy’s eyes were hard.

“You’re upset with him.”

Syaoran jerked as though he’d been tugged out of a reverie. “What - no. It’s fine.” He ran a hand through his hair, Sakura tilting to catch his eye. He spoke softly. “I think I’d better look after your brother, now. Come up later and I’m sure he’d like to see you. He’s just…” Syaoran smiled pitifully.

“I understand,” Sakura said. She clasped Syaoran’s hand in her own to show him her thanks. When he returned her grip, she drew his hand to her lips in an act of bravery she would later be extremely proud of and kissed him. “Thank you for looking after my brother. And please take care of yourself.” She stayed just long enough to see his face go completely red and then trotted with a strained sort of casualness down the stairs.

She alighted on the bottom with a weightless footfall and stopped. Now she was all sorts of anxious. She shook her head and told herself Syaoran was perfectly able to handle a little kiss on the hand – just as Kurogane was perfectly able to recover, in time.

She wandered toward the library out of habit, not knowing where else to go. But halfway up the hall she stopped - she could hear Miss Ichihara’s lilting voice in the entrance chamber, where she had sequestered Fai less ten minutes ago to discuss something private with him. Now that Sakura could hear the tones of their conversation, she was surprised to find that they were far from friendly.

“I’m not convinced by your motives, Fluorite.”

Fai gave a disarming laugh. Sakura could hear the clink of teacups on saucers and the drawn-out sip of tea that Fai was taking, and pressed herself against the wall across from the dining room. She couldn’t see much of the entrance chamber from here, just the little rectangle of a window facing the garden. Fai and Miss Ichihara must have been seated by the fire.

Fai capped his laugh with a low, unkind sound like he was holding back a sneer. “I’m a doctor. What more of a motive do you need?”

“I’d like to know why you picked this case to address, above all the others I’ve sent your way.”

“Like who?”

“The man with the heart problems, for example. The woman with lead poisoning like this patient’s. You keep them for a few days and then send them off to the station with well-wishes, and yet you used to be so giving.”

He sighed. “There was nothing I could do for those people. I’m not a magician.”

“But you have developed prototypes for their treatments. You undervalue your ability.”

“My ‘ability’ is not enough, Yuuko. The only reason I gave in this time is because I owe it to the Daidojis.”

A sigh escaped the woman’s lips. Sakura listened to silence for a moment as she imagined the woman taking a long sip of her tea, and the cup tapped onto the saucer again. “You’re torn between wanting to pay your dues and not wanting to elevate yourself to the level of someone worth any respect for it."

Fai laughed again. “I don’t make myself very useful, do I?”

“If you’re asking me to resent you, you’ll be afraid to learn that I do not.” Miss Ichihara stood up. Sakura heard the cushions displaced as she lifted out of her seat, and the clap of her heels on the ground as she crossed the room. Sakura realised she was heading her way. She gasped and spun into the library, footsteps close behind her all the while.

She was curious about this woman, Syaoran’s regular customer and a self-described ‘connoisseur of all things steaming and herbal’, but she felt it improper to shoehorn herself into a private conversation in a house where she was a guest. If they had seen her, she thought, throwing herself into a pile of blankets on the couch and opening the nearest book to a random page…

She put her head in her hand and adopted a studious gaze for good measure just before Miss Ichihara strolled into view. Sakura pretended to look up with surprise at the new company – and found herself speechless.

Miss Ichihara was framed in the arch of the doorway as if by design, tall and exquisite, an enormous bird plume erupting from the purple hat on her head. The teacup was still perched in her hand like a familiar. Her dark eyes scoured the room as they fell on the bookshelves, the couches, the globes, and finally on Sakura. She smiled a slow, breathtaking smile.

“ _When_ are you going to invite me over? Look at this. Beautiful.”

Fai appeared behind her a second later. “You tend to appear whether you’re invited or not,” he said through tight lips.

Miss Ichihara thrust her cup into Fai’s hand, his other already occupied by a plate of sliced figs so that he looked less a doctor and more a personal butler. Soel wound herself around his ankles at just the right moment to almost send him toppling to the ground.

“And such lovely guests,” said Miss Ichihara, genuinely. She smiled and Sakura blushed.  “I apologise for my earlier crassness - I never did get a chance to speak with you directly. You are Sakura.”

“Yes,” Sakura said.

“My condolences to your brother, wherever he is.” She gave Fai a deliberate, debonair look. He returned it very well for a man with a cat climbing up his leg. Miss Ichihara seated herself elegantly into the nearest armchair and gestured for Fai to join them, which he did not do.

“I’d better see how Kurogane is doing,” he said.

“Of course you do. Actually, I’d like to accompany you to meet this man, if I might be able to.”

“Well,” Fai said, grin tightening to snapping level, “I actually must first see to it that I gather the necessary equipment from my laboratory.”

“Such as?”

“Medication.”

“Then I’d love to see your lab.”

“You can’t. It’s private, I’m afraid.”

“Then I’ll come up and see you both in ten minutes.”

“I never said you could,” said Fai, all hope of pretence starting to wither. “He’s unwell and I’m not sure he’d appreciate all this company.”

“Then stop making excuses and give him this for me, if you ever actually do go to see him,” said Miss Ichihara, producing a letter. Sakura’s eyes widened slightly. What could Miss Ichihara have to do with Kurogane? Fai took it reluctantly in the hand holding the teacup and tucked it into his coat. Sakura tried to catch his eyes as he passed, but he seemed either not to notice, or not to want to look at her.

“You’ll forgive my passing it on to the doctor instead of yourself,” Miss Ichihara said. Sakura took a moment to realise the woman was talking to her. She nearly jumped when she met the deep amber eyes gazing at her, the long, pointed face framed by cascades of black hair. “For a start,” Miss Ichihara said, ignoring the way Fai indiscreetly placed the tea cup and the plate of figs on the coffee table in front of her before leaving, “I need to make sure he actually goes up there.”

Fai scoffed on his way out the door. Sakura felt her ears burn suddenly. She didn’t know what was going on.

She watched Soel climb into Miss Ichihara’s lap and wondered, when she saw the way Miss Ichihara petted the cat and the way Soel arched up into her smiling cheek, why Fai didn’t seem to get along with this woman. “I was not able to deliver the letter to you because it is very important. While I believe you are perfectly able to pass it on, there are outside circumstances preventing me from delivering the letter to anyone but Kurogane, or his doctor if Kurogane himself is not available.”

“I see,” Sakura said, though she didn’t. “I suppose I shouldn’t ask you what it’s about?”

“You could. I just cannot answer.”

Sakura nodded and sank back into her chair. She seemed to be privy to very little of the manor’s goings-on, today.

“Well,” she began, deciding to change the subject, “how long have you been coming here to buy tea?”

Miss Ichihara smiled with one side of her mouth. It was a wry, happy smile that made Sakura smile, too. “For almost as long as Syaoran been selling it. That must have been a few months after he arrived, I remember, so probably four years ago. Such an entrepreneurial young man.”

Sakura laughed. “So you came here even before that?”

“I did. I live nearby so I’ve known the occupants of this manor for a very long time.” Miss Ichihara waved her hand at that, though, and seemed to end the subject there. “I’m an apothecary, you see, so I’m somewhat at-odds around here.”

“You treat sick people?”

“In a sense,” Miss Ichihara said. “I help people overcome their ailments in exchange for something of equal value. So I suppose you could say I treat the ill.”

They chatted about Miss Ichihara’s strange work and Sakura’s readings after that, and Sakura was almost - almost - disappointed to see Syaoran emerge in the doorway.

“Hello Miss Ichihara. Kurogane’s still resting at the moment, so I’m only down here briefly.”

Sakura refrained from standing up immediately and looked at Miss Ichihara. The woman was plucking a fig from the plate, carefully admiring it under the light from the window. “Is Fai up there yet?”

“Uh, no. He hasn’t come up at all.”

“Sneaky bastard.” Miss Ichihara ate the fig and stood. “I think I will take my leave. Tell Fai if he doesn’t go up to see Kurogane I will know and I will return.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Syaoran said, eyes a touch wider than usual.

Miss Ichihara took Sakura’s hand and held it for a moment in a gesture of endearment. “I will see you again before you leave.”

“Yes, Miss Ichihara.” Sakura bowed a little and stammered between a ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’.

“Oh, and Syaoran,” Miss Ichihara said as she passed him in the doorway, “Do tell Fai to organise his library.”

“I’ve tried doing it myself,” he said with a low laugh, “but he never lets me. He likes it the way it is.” Miss Ichihara nodded with sage-like understanding and let Syaoran continue. “Would you like me to see you out?”

“You’re a kind boy. There’s no need.” She swept out of the room with that, bent once at the front door to farewell Soel, and wandered out into the wan sunlight of the garden. Sakura could see her feathered cap bobbing on the breeze until she disappeared into the woods.

Sakura and Syaoran were suddenly alone in the library. Sakura considered that this was quickly becoming one of her favourite arrangements, in spite of the ever-growing list of things she was beginning to call her ‘favourite’, among which Miss Ichihara was now very high up. “I was actually hoping,” Syaoran suddenly began, “that if I came down here, then Fai would get the hint and go upstairs for a while.” He started and shook his head quickly. “Wait – not that I mean looking after Kurogane is a hassle or anything, I just thought it would be nice if… I think I’d like to hang out for a while and – and Fai really should go up there and talk to him. I think Kurogane wants to smooth some things over and anyway Fai is better at all this stuff than I am-”

Sakura’s bright laugh interrupted him. “You are so _good_.”

Syaoran stared blankly at her for a long moment. She returned the gaze with a smile until she couldn’t bear the sight of those precious brown eyes looking back at her. She held out her hand as she sidled up to the doorway. “Want to come for a walk? I think it’s time for a break.”

Syaoran forewent the use of words and took her hand, allowing her to lead him into the entrance hall and through the front door.

-

Upstairs, the room was dark from the overcast window, and the fire crackled patiently in the corner of Kurogane’s eye. He could hear his own pulse, and had to shut his eyes on the room to steady the feeling that he was lurching forward with every heartbeat. An hour later he felt rested enough that he was no longer nauseous, at least, and was just drifting to sleep when the door opened. He frowned – Fai was sliding inside with a look of utter reluctance on his face. Kurogane watched as the doctor wordlessly drew up a seat by the bedside and gave a sweeping glance to the intravenous module, never once looking at Kurogane. He lowered himself into the chair like it was covered in pins.

“I brought you some food.” Fai lowered a bag onto the bedside table and withdrew two sandwiches, two bowls, and a flask of soup. “I wasn’t sure whether you’d feel like eating, so it’s very light.”

Kurogane felt his annoyance dissolve somewhat. “Thanks.”

Fai pulled out the flask and poured steaming broth into the two bowls. It smelled of chicken and leek, and Kurogane felt his mouth water. Fai smiled at the precisely arranged bags of fluid on the hat rack as he passed a bowl to Kurogane. “Syaoran is such a thorough pupil,” he admired, as if talking to himself. Kurogane pushed himself back into a sitting position, bowl in hand, and waited to catch his strength again before speaking.

“I slept.” The statement was pointless, but he was glad he’d said something at all. He wanted to talk to Fai.

“So you should,” Fai returned, lifting his own bowl to his lips. “It’s good to get some rest.”

“As everyone keeps telling me,” Kurogane said. “I’m not used to resting. Not saying I can’t do it, but I really fucking want to get out of bed.”

Fai almost smiled. Kurogane caught it mid-leap and saw it wither away again. He watched over the rim of his bowl as the doctor nodded and fiddled with the hem of his waistcoat.

“He’s more professional than you, too,” Kurogane shot. Fai glanced up, eyes wide with surprise. “More honest. He’s a good kid.”

“That sounds like a remonstration.”

“Yep.”

This time Fai really did smile, sad and amused all at once. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know he’s liable to earn his accreditations in the next few years. He’ll be a practicing chemist soon.”

Kurogane’s eyes narrowed. “It’s actually Syaoran that I wanted to talk about. I can only hide from you what I hide from him, so I figured I’d just spit it out.” Fai stiffened, but didn’t look up. “I saw your little jars with the weird membranes and the labels. I saw the empty space where the ‘Syaoran’ label was.”

Fai’s eyes widened. He didn’t speak. Finally, he said, “Do you know what those were?”

“No,” Kurogane said.

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

“I wanted to know that he’s okay. And he said he was,” Kurogane continued, “So I’m letting you know I don’t care what you’re doing.”

Fai stopped playing with his waistcoat. “You what?”

“I don’t care. I don’t believe everything you say, but I do believe Syaoran.” Fai’s eyes danced away again and Kurogane didn’t think before reaching out to hold him by the wrist. He started at himself, at the sensation of the cool, bony arm beneath his touch, and pushed on. The tactic had worked. Fai was looking at him at last. “I’m not here for any of that,” Kurogane said. “I’m here – as much as it pisses me off – because I need treatment. I need to let you do your job.”

Fai stared at him for a long moment. Finally, Kurogane thought, he’d seen something real on the man’s face. He was unguarded, lips parted, brows raised. “Okay,” Fai said at length. His eyes fell to Kurogane’s hand, still gripping his wrist through soft tremors. “But… I thought you didn’t like being touched.”

Kurogane pulled his hand away. Why, of all things, was that what the man cared about now? “Yeah, but I chose to do it.” He shrugged. He realised how petulant he sounded and suppressed a growl. “I don’t know. It’s different.”

Fai nodded once like he understood, but pulled his arm in close all the same. “Well,” he chuckled, “I’m sure you can’t be the only one.” It sounded almost pitying.

Kurogane scoffed and closed his eyes. “I used to fight a lot, you know,” he offered.

“Fight who?”

“Other kids, at first,” he said. “Brawlers at the taverns when I got older, which is how I screwed up my hand. Auntie and Uncle gave me hell for it. Rightly.” He grinned despite himself, feeling his teeth bare. He thought he heard Fai swallow. “I don’t give a shit about it then, either. You don’t go into a fight expecting to come out all fine and gleaming.” He held up his left hand to demonstrate.

“Is that the only time you…?” Fai gestured to himself and then to Kurogane, lamely trying to finish his thought.

Kurogane actually laughed. “Touch other people? Don’t be ridiculous. Sakura still gets me to carry her around on my back sometimes, to the shops or through the park... I still hold my family.” He considered something. “And I made out with one of the brawlers, once,” he added.

Fai seemed at a loss for words. He cleared his throat, quietly, and said, “Sorry. I just thought – being from the city-”

“From the city?”

“-you’d be more… worldly.”

Kurogane snorted. “Screw off. You can tell me that again when you’ve lived in my _world_.”

Fai’s eyes narrowed. “Abrasive, as usual.”

“Well don’t act like you know better!”

“I don’t,” Fai said, his voice hardening into an edge Kurogane hadn’t encountered before. It was satisfying to hear. “How was I supposed to know what you’re into?”

“Maybe ask. If you’re so interested.” He added the last part without thinking and instantly regretted it.

Fai paused, a wry smile creeping onto his face. “I can’t say you don’t have a certain charm about you. Rough, rude…”

“Excuse you?”

Fai twirled a loose string on his waistcoat as he continued, grinning now. He seemed to be probing for something that would embarrass Kurogane. “Your loyalty to your sister is adorable.”

“Feh.”

“And,” he said, “The way you look through windows is a spectacle in itself. I wouldn’t have expected you to have such a romantic weakness.”

Kurogane raised an eyebrow. Of all the things Fai could have teased him for, he wasn’t expecting that. “When have you seen me do that?”

“You’re always doing it.” He felt his cheeks warm. He knew he had a tendency to get agitated over his confinement, but he was never less than impeccably alert. He should have known if he was being watched. “You look like someone who’s seen something amazing in my crappy little garden. It’s nice to watch.” Fai’s lips quirked. “So. Not all impenetrable burliness, are you?”

Kurogane looked away, and his eyes landed on the window out of habit. He shook his head.

“You’re more than you seem, too,” he said. Fai made an uncertain sound and returned to his soup.

“I’m really not,” he said.

“You’re a shitty liar.”

Fai didn’t answer. Neither of them spoke until the soup was finished, and Kurogane found himself feeling much better once he’d drank it all. It definitely beat relying on the fluid running into his veins.

Fai shifted in his seat suddenly, and Kurogane turned to look at him. He was lifting his hand to a pocket in his waistcoat, as though to draw something out. But whatever he was doing – straightening the lining or fiddling nervously as he often did – his hand emerged empty.

“Well,” he said, standing up. Kurogane followed him with his eyes. He was suddenly all business again. “You probably don’t need me hanging around any longer.”

“What about your sandwich?”

“Keep it for when you’re hungry.”

Kurogane sighed softly. “I don’t mind, you know,” he said, clearing his throat. “Don’t mind if you stay.”

Fai lingered at the statement. For a second Kurogane thought he might remain, but he finally inched around the bed and drifted to the door. “Sorry,” he said. “Lab work.”

Kurogane watched him go, disappointment lodging unbidden in his chest. Fai pulled the door open and was about to exit when he turned around. “I’ll let Sakura know you’re ready for a visit, if you like.”

“Don’t bother her. I saw her and the kid outside through the window a while ago.” He paused. "And Fai."

Fai flinched at the sound of his name. "Yes?"

"Put on a coat. It's freezing in here."

Fai looked surprised. He nodded his head and left before Kurogane could appreciate the expression on his face.

-

Sakura and Syaoran returned at mid-afternoon, arm in arm and whispering close. She was still dazed by the afternoon’s perfection. She’d spent the last few hours wandering the surrounding woods with Syaoran as a guide, wondering at the detail with which he knew the landscape and the shortcuts from hideaway to hideaway.

He’d shown her his favourite spot, a stone gazebo tucked in a pocket of wild-grown hedges and broken lanterns. They had sat in the gazebo and talked about home and tea and books, and when they kissed it had come more naturally than words.

Syaoran had also mentioned about Kurogane finding something strange in the locked lab cupboard, just to let her know, and that if the topic came up it was nothing to worry about. Sakura respected that Syaoran wanted to end the explanation there. It was something he and Fai were researching privately together, so she decided to leave it be. She trusted that Syaoran wouldn’t be involved if it was something to worry about.

When they returned to the manor, Syaoran left her at the library. “I should probably go check in with Fai, now,” he said. “We have some things to finish off today.”

“Is it about project you keep in the cupboard?” Sakura asked.

Syaoran looked reticent for a moment, but then nodded. “Yeah. We’re working on some new samples today. I’d like to see how he’s going.”

They kissed again at the library door before Syaoran left. Elated, Sakura twirled inside and took out a birdwatching encyclopaedia from some shelf, hugging it to her chest with closed eyes. She didn’t fall into her usual seat straight away, but glided instead around the circumference of the room, trailing a hand over the books, happy just to feel them under her fingertips.

She took out another that she thought she’d like to read, on arts and crafts and the lovely things that they could do, and saw something behind the shelf in the gap where it had stood.

She bent low and peered into the dark space. Pushing the adjacent books aside, she could see a hole in the wall. It wasn’t in plain sight. In fact, she was lucky she noticed it at all, the way it was tucked behind a supporting pillar with the wallpaper folded back over it. It was rectangular in shape, longer on the vertical side, and seemed to be carved into the wall rather than broken or caved. It was just the right shape to insert a book into. Someone had crafted it deliberately.

She wasn’t sure she should do it, at first. Then, bracing herself, she inserted an arm through the shelf. It was a tight squeeze, because of how it angled away slightly, and whoever made it must have had very long arms. She managed to slip two fingers into the wall and felt the rigid, rippled spine of a heavy-bound volume. The hole in the wall did not lead straight into the wall cavity, she realised – it had been messily slotted with a compartment, a pocket in the side of the very house. This book she felt under her fingers was the only thing inside.

She pulled it out. It was a leather-bound album, with slips and clippings fattening the pages and poking out every here and there.

She almost put it back. This was clearly something private, something Fai or Syaoran had intentionally hidden. But her first instinct, when given a book, was to open it. So she did.

The first words she read made her stomach flip.

_BREAKING: LORD AND LADY SUWA KILLED IN TRAGIC BLACKTHORNE COLLAPSE_

It was a newspaper clipping. Sakura turned and turned the pages – they were all stuffed with similar announcements and reports.

_BLACKTHORNE COLLAPSES, 250 DEAD_

_ESTATE IN DISARRAY FOLLOWING DEATHS OF LORD AND LADY SUWA_

_SUWA WEALTH AWARDED TO BUSINESSMAN, RELATIVE_

Only one was different from all the others.

_FOREST FIRE KILLS ONE_

Sakura felt her breath tremble. These were almost all articles about Kurogane’s parents. Why would Fai or Syaoran be keeping this here?

She could go to Syaoran and ask him, but he might take up the issue with Fai. Something told her she didn’t want that to happen. She looked at the pages with their yellowed clippings and thought of Kurogane. She couldn’t keep this from him. Whether it was her business or not, it was certainly his. The book felt suddenly very heavy in her hands.

“I’m sorry, Syao,” she murmured as she tucked the book under her coat. She carefully replaced the wallpaper over the hole in the wall and inserted the other books where she had found them, making sure they looked as undisturbed as possible. Then, determining that Fai and Syaoran were in the far kitchen from the distant sounds of their murmuring, she headed upstairs to talk to her brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muphry's Law dictates that despite having reopened this chapter to edit it about three times already, I will probably edit it again another ten times before giving up on my ability to write without typos.


End file.
